Blank Caves, or How the Children Killed the Days
by SilverCascade
Summary: A collection of one-shots from the fourth generation of Wammy's House.


**"We destroy things with our curiosity. We shatter with our best intentions."**  
**- Lauren DeStefano, "Sever"**

* * *

"Don't touch that!"

Mello didn't see who spoke, but chose to ignore them anyway. The voice was high-pitched and irritating; therefore it had to belong to a child younger than his seven years, and he was _supposed_ to ignore it, like when your mother tells you not to step on the cracks in case she breaks her back.

He swaggered forward with a hand on his hip, a habit he would keep eleven years later when sauntering into the base of the Los Angeles mafia. If he hadn't been the most sour child at Wammy's House, whose mood ignited and dampened as quickly as the shutter of a camera rose and fell, the group of children surrounding him might have laughed.

It also helped he was two heads taller than them.

The boy in the middle was stooped in his perpetual crouch, the white cotton of his pyjamas grimy from his lack of wearing anything else. Towering over him was a skeletal structure, a cross between the Eiffel Tower and a large cylinder. He was working with Legos to construct a suitably complex interior to add to his work, and the other, younger children shyly assisted by handing over Legos or simply providing the support of a benevolent audience.

Mello took two more steps forward; the sea of children parted.

Near looked up, saw the form of the blond, and looked back down again. Though he was but a year younger, the age gap that would keep them apart was exaggerated in their marked physiques.

Perhaps if Near had defended his morning's work with words, the need for violence could have been avoided. Then again, if the world's greatest detective hadn't announced Mello _and_ Near to be next in line as potential successors that morning, in front of everyone else no less, the whole incident may have been avoided in its entirety.

"Heard you've been working on this all morning, Near," said Mello. Near didn't acknowledge him, and added red Legos to the centerpiece. "It's ugly."

Near didn't reply. He might've been only six years old, but he had practically grown up beside Mello, even if the other boy had not known of his existence until today. They had the same classes, where Near sat in the back and Mello in the front, the same lunch periods - Near ate alone, Mello was surrounded by the big kids telling him stories about their lives - and even the same recreation hours. Which was how they had ended up in the same room not for the first time, but for the first time where Mello knew who he was.

Near couldn't help but feel dejected; perhaps if Mello didn't see him as a threat, they could have been friends. Near hadn't had a friend before, and was bemused by the concept.

With his next step, Mello's feet were two inches from the base of the model. Near didn't flinch, ignoring the presence before him that then vibrated with a sudden burst of rage.

"Why don't you _talk_?"

Near didn't stir, only blinked at Mello's form, now leaning in and glaring. The quiet mumbling of the observers had cut to silence after Mello's outburst. The room was still, the only noise created by Near's careful hands slotting together piece after blue piece of Lego. The two-holes fitted with four, if you used two of them, and, depending on how you intended to balance them out, they had the potential to build a solid foundation. He created four more two-four-two combinations and braced himself.

"You don't ever speak, and the old men... they think you're as good as me? As good as L?" The blond spat his words, surprised at the magnitude of hatred his thin body could hold. "Don't make me laugh!"

But he wasn't laughing. If the children had not been so frightened, they might have dared think Mello was about to cry. And still, Near did not acknowledge him.

Mello's next action was so swift, so sudden, that it took fifteen whole seconds for anybody to realise what had happened. For Near, it took five seconds.

As the rain of Legos descended, quick and sharp and hurtful, Mello pulled back his foot and grinned. They hit him too, pointed corners jabbing his shoulders like the bony fingers of the older kids during class, but he didn't care. So great was his euphoria, so quiet was everyone else's shock, and so dignified was Near's rage, that he didn't even see the other events occurring.

Near was almost as tall as Mello when he stood up.

Mello's back was to him, so he didn't see. But the others did, and a short squeak was all the indication they gave.

"He doesn't care! I... I took out the tower, and he still doesn't say a word!" He turned to Near, the next words on his lips fizzling out after catching the look on the boy's face. "You don't care..."

There was something in his eyes not unlike the end of a roaring storm, and those half-empty pits that seemed somehow familiar held the notion of threat. For once, the mannequin appeared alive.

Mello's stomach clenched.

"I'll kill you." The words were clear and quiet, but assured enough to retain dignity in a way Mello never could. If not for the complex fury - for the thunder and lightning had passed in less than a second and Mello didn't understand _how_ - the boy would simply look more human.

They were the first words Near had spoken in the time the orphanage had known him, and the meaning didn't register so much as the fact that sound left his lips in a form the spectators could understand.

A sudden pitter-patter escaping the recreation room was followed by another, and another, for all the children wanted to be the first to see Roger, to let him know Near had done something so ordinary. It wasn't long before the half-strangers, soon to be full-friends, and, in due time, full-rivals, were left alone.

Mello didn't know what to say.

Near sat down again, one knee hugged to his chest, and the other tucked underneath him. He reached for the foundation blocks he'd been building and set them up in a semi-circle not far from his knees. Scooping up Legos like pirates did pieces of eight, he let them tumble through his fingers. He broke the silence - Mello's silence - with their sound.

Piece by piece, he began putting them back together. There were combinations of two-threes and four-two-twos, and the rate at which Near reconstructed the base, a solid tower of blue plastic, was staggering. After watching him work, it wasn't long before Mello bent down and assisted. Drawn to the black pieces like moths to the swinging light bulb outside the backyard's shelter, he stacked them with an increasing pace, trying to keep up with Near's speed. It was a race created by rigid construction, and it was a race he was destined to continually lose.

He wasn't even building a tower, nor was he re-building Near's in the way it had originally stood, but he was creating something of his own design, something that could last and would last long after he left the room.

When the measured footsteps were audible, telling the duo the creator of the sound was but a hallway away, the structure had almost been rebuilt. Mello had completed his efforts and given in, now merely helping Near, being directed by nods or gestures, each motion an affirmation or negation.

The younger boy's finger found a lock of hair and turned it over and over, a silent homage to the repetition of a clock's tick. It helped clear his mind, just like the sound.

As Roger entered, they stopped. The old man's face made Mello colour up, the red of indignation rising to his cheeks. But he didn't move and he didn't speak, knowing his actions had brought about events in Near's favour.

"Near, the other children have told me you're speaking now."

"I suppose I am." The calmness of his tone was unnerving to the other boy.

"That's good news. I hope you'll be more responsive in your lessons from now on."

"I can't promise anything."

"As long as you're getting along well." Roger cast a glance at Mello, who looked away. "Mello. Near. I'll leave you to it."

"Roger!"Mello called after him as he left the corridor."You knew Near could speak?!"

"Of course." The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened.

"Why didn't you tell us? We all thought he was mute, or in shock, or..." Heat hit his cheeks again. "The little kids said he didn't have a tongue."

"There are many things to be learned here, Mello." Roger walked on and talked on, slowly, and Mello kept step. "Firstly, appearances are deceiving, and first impressions are always wrong. Didn't you think of me as ann old fool when you were first sent to my office? Alas, this might be be a bad example... Paper aeroplanes in a Maths lesson, I believe?" He laughed; it was dry, but not harmful. "Secondly, you must pay more attention. Near does have a tongue. He eats, doesn't he? What do they teach you in Biology anymore? I must speak with Mister Tuss."

"Oh. You didn't tell us because we could learn from it..." He trailed off, as if pondering the value of the situation in such a light. "Wait, why didn't Near talk?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Holding out a palm, the man allowed Mello to see they were back at the recreation room. The door was still open, and Near worked on the tower. "And don't worry, I don't plan on telling him it was you who told the younger ones he lacks a tongue." Mello whipped his head around to protest, but Roger was halfway down the corridor and out of earshot.

Taking a breath, he re-entered.

Near glanced at him, surprised to see him back, then returned to his work. He spoke without looking up again, and Mello spoke whilst staring at him.

"What did Roger say-"

"Roger said-"

They both stopped. When Near looked up, he was smiling. Mello never saw the smile again, and so far removed was the memory from his mind that he held the notion Near had never smiled in his life.

"It seems talking is more trouble than it's worth, sometimes."

"Is that why you didn't talk until now?" Mello sat, cross-legged and open-minded, a rare curiosity in his words, a want for an answer even an adult couldn't provide.

Near's shoulder dipped a fraction. "I had nothing to say."

"But..." Paralysis of words was not something Mello was used to.

"I think you understand more than you think you understand." His smile wavered. "For lack of a better phrase."

"So, all this time... you understood us?"

"Yes."

"Well, understand this." Mello stood, knees giving a soft click, and towered over the boy in his new coat of knowledge. "Tell anyone about what happened..." He motioned towards the rebuilt tower. "And I'll kill _you_."

Near paused a moment, his smile vanishing. He tilted his head up and down once, and it was enough. Already, Mello's business with his words was complete.

Quietly, after Mello strode out of the room and the door swung shut, Near spoke his sole thought aloud.

"Understood."


End file.
